


Mea Maxima Culpa

by prettybirdy979



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Mild Language, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7598425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybirdy979/pseuds/prettybirdy979
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cries ring in Matt's ears, pushing him into action despite the brightness of the day. So what if he'll be seen, at least he'll be able to save the hostages.</p><p>And then he hears what the gunman wants - and who exactly it is he has hostage. </p><p>Well, Matt always knew he was going to be the death of his (ex-)friends. It's all his love is good for, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mea Maxima Culpa

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/8423.html?thread=17087975#cmt17087975) prompt on the kinkmeme. 
> 
> MASSIVE thanks to Zwaluw who betaed and cheerleadered me the whole way through this. If it's amazing, it's because of you. Also thanks to PipMer for helping with the title and summary.

The sun’s beams warm Matt’s skin, bringing to mind the days when he could see the way they bounced off the footpaths of Hell’s Kitchen, turning the city from the dreary grey, into a golden afternoon of glaring light. It was sunny, the day he lost his sight, the blue sky visible behind Dad’s face. Feeling the sun on his skin always makes him think of that day, even if only at the back of his mind. Is this day as bright as he remembers that day being? Is the sky blue or is the sun just peaking out between two grey clouds?

How much can people see?

Normally Matt pushes these thoughts back, ignores them but today… well today it might be extremely relevant. The sun is warming his skin, physical evidence of what his watch tells him is reality. It’s only just gone midday and it’s the type of midday where the sun is in the sky and the day clear. People are outside, heads up to enjoy the sunshine.

If he changes into Daredevil, he’s going to have none of the usual cover of darkness - or even of rain or clouds - to hide behind. He’s going to be _seen_.

Another whimpering cry, the only sounds the hostages in the bakery are able to make, echoes in his ears and his hands clench around his cane. He might be seen - no, he _will_ be seen - but right now, he might be their only hope. Hostage situations rarely end well.

The police are still arriving, perhaps three cars of them right now, and all their hearts are pounding as they take in the scene. Matt, standing behind the crowd at the police line, can hear much more than he’s sure the officers can see. Six hostages - six people; six men and women; six friends and family; Matt must never lose sight of that -  and a gunman. A single gunman. An easy night’s work.

The shame burns in his veins and has his teeth clenching as he hesitates. Pauses, beyond what is needed to take in the situation. The selfishness of his choice to wait even for just a moment has his heart pounding in time with the police officers’, though he’s sure for an entirely different reason. He shouldn’t be here, soaking up the sun. He should be in there, kicking butt, saving lives and not being _selfish_. So what if he’s seen? Since he started this, he’s known the risks. Imprisonment is a tiny price to pay for justice… for the lives of those his devil saves.

‘How many?’ A familiar voice asks and Matt cocks his head, focusing on the new arrival. Brett Mahoney, he realises, with a jolt of delight. Along with a bolt of panic because while Brett’s the officer most likely to work with Daredevil, he’s also the officer most likely to recognise Matt Murdock as Daredevil. Taking a couple of steps puts Matt behind part of the crowd and (most likely) out of Brett’s line of sight.

Sometimes Matt has issues judging line of sight. It’s been a while since it was relevant.

‘Six plus the gunmen. No confirmed numbers on how many yet.’

One gunman.

Matt can hear his panting breaths and frantic pacing, a background drumbeat to the symphony of his hostages’ tearful whimpers. Every step echoes in Matt’s ears and strikes at his heart, as if screaming ‘you can save them; you can stop this; you can stop _me_ … so why don’t you?’. His suit is at home, it’s only two blocks away… he could be back here in minutes, this would be over so fast…

He’d be seen but it would be-

‘Any demands?’ Brett asks breaking into Matt’s thoughts and giving him another excuse to delay action. Matt clenches his fists tighter around his cane, relishing the way his joints ache and his fingernails dig into his palm with a biting pain. He deserves it.

Coward.

No more excuses Matt. Only action. He takes one step back, two. Get out of the c-

Brett’s phone rings, an almost silent tingling noise that freezes Matt in place. Because he _knows_ that tone, remembers Foggy joking about how he and Brett have matching ringtones for another - ‘to stop a repeat of the obnoxious ringtone war of ‘08’. Foggy’s ringing Brett.

Why is Foggy ringing Brett? Something in Matt feels heavy, dragging his stomach towards the ground. Surely this is unrelated, please let this be unrelated. He focuses on Brett, pushing away all other bits of input to give Brett his full attention.

‘Foggy I’m a bit busy right now.’

 _‘I want to speak to the officer in charge of the Ma Jo’s scene,’_ an unfamiliar voice says and the last bit of warm hope is snuffed out like a flame, leaving ice in Matt’s veins. God _no,_ not Foggy.

‘You have him. What can I do for you?’ Brett’s voice is as cold as the ice in Matt’s veins, but his heart is pounding, thunderous in Matt’s ears. Even from this distance, Matt could swear he can taste the sweat dripping down Brett’s forehead.

He thinks Foggy’s in there too.

Maybe Foggy isn’t? Matt’s too far away to hear a heartbeat but if he focuses… The hostages’ voices are indistinct, muttered noises of fear and tears but Matt knows Foggy’s voice better than he knows almost any other voice. It’s been a cornerstone of his world for so long now, not having it around has been like losing his home. He can get along without it - has to, it’s his fault it’s gone - but boy does it make everything difficult and offputting.

Focus Matt. Focus. Push away the voices of the crowd… Focus. Focus. Fo-

There. That’s the little hitch Foggy gets in his voice when he’s upset, the shuttering way he breaths when he’s trying to calm himself but can’t. The floor drops out from under Matt, or at least it must have - why else does he feel like he’s falling and sinking at the same time?

‘It’ll be okay,’ _Karen_ says, before Matt can draw his focus back and all his attention snaps to her in a heartbeat. Her voice is barely audible over the pounding of his heart in his ears and he has to swallow back bile. Karen’s with Foggy. Foggy, who is currently a hostage.

Karen’s a hostage too.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes out and at the sound of his voice, his focus snaps back, leaving Foggy and Karen to suffer without his voyeuristic listening in. ‘Oh fuck.’ They’re both in danger, both of them. They might not call him friend anymore but Karen and Foggy are… well they’re everything. He’s tried and he’s tried and he can’t stop caring about them. Even as he ruins their lives - his love doing the only thing it’s capable of - he still cares. It would hurt so much less if he didn’t care.

‘You want _what_?’ Brett says, drawing Matt’s attention back to him.

‘ _Daredevil,_ ’ the gunman says and hey, look, there’s more of Matt’s world to drop out from under him. There’s more ice to flow through his veins and only sheer will stops him throwing up, the bile like fire in this throat. Karen and Foggy are in this situation because of him. _‘I want Daredevil_.’

‘You’ve got to be-’ Brett bites off what he was saying and a second later Matt catches the faint taste of copper in the air as his lip breaks under the pressure. ‘You want Daredevil,’ he says in a tone so measured and calm that Matt doesn’t need to be able to hear Brett’s pounding heart to know it’s fake. ‘What, do you want him now or do you wanna wait until it’s dark out and he comes hunting for you?’

‘ _want Daredevil_ ,’ the gunman repeats and Brett sighs.

‘No money? No plane? You just want Daredevil?’

‘ _You have thirty minutes,_ ’ the gunman says and hangs up, the beep a thundering and final sound in Matt’s ears.

Brett exhales, a burst of air like a gale force wind to Matt’s hearing. ‘Well fuck.’

‘Sir?’ the officer beside him asks. ‘What do they want?’

‘Daredevil.’ Brett taps at his thigh for a moment, the taste of copper still in the air as he bites at his lip again. ‘Start searching the neighbourhood, get some eyes on the rooftops. The second Daredevil appears on a roof, I want a cop on him and bringing him here.’ Matt can hear the nervous flutter of the officer’s heart, taste the sweat on his brow. ‘Tell them not to use force but to make it clear we want Daredevil here ASAP.’ Brett starts to walk away then pauses and turns back. ‘Put Ferguson on media watch. Tell him to keep his mouth shut about what we’re looking for.’

The officer makes an inarticulate noise. ‘Is… is that wise Sir?’ Brett doesn’t say anything but must make some kind of facial expression because the officer adds in a whisper, ‘It’s just… Ferguson on media watch with orders to shut up? It’s… it’s going to be a disaster Sir. Ferguson couldn’t keep his mouth shut about what type of doughnut’s in the break room. No way he’ll keep this from the press.’

Brett’s tone has a touch of amusement, hidden amongst his attempt at emotionless.

‘You say that like it’s a bad thing, Johnson.’

With that, he’s walking away, barking out orders to others on the scene. Matt takes his cue to leave - he needs a costume change before he can really attend this party.

********

Sneaking back to the bakery in broad daylight while wearing his suit is close to the hardest thing Matt’s ever done. The police are on the roofs, so he takes the alleys. It's easy enough to detect the various officers and avoid them as cops always have this… presence in his senses. The crackle of their radio, the faint but ever present smell of gunpowder and the bite of capsicum on his tongue. Distinct and not at all hard to evade, if forcing him to use a more circuitous path then he would have liked. Every extra, pounding step echoes in his ears - Foggy’s in danger, Karen could die, your fault, your fault, your fault. _Your fault_.

Brett’s pacing behind a police car, right beside a building, growling into a radio.

‘What do you mean no sign of him? Five T.V stations have already reported we’re looking for him, it’s on every radio station in Midtown and trending on a dozen social media sites. How could he _not_ know we’re looking for him?’ A muttered voice Matt doesn’t bother to focus on. He’s a bit busy right now. ‘We have eyes on all the roofs around here, righ-’

‘You called Detective?’ Matt asks and Brett jumps, dropping his radio in the process. He turns and lets out a string of fairly impressive swearing at the sight of Matt. After thirty seconds without a repeated word, Matt has to raise an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t realise my arrival was so noteworthy.’

‘How the fuck-?’ Shaking his head, Brett takes a step forward. Matt’s feet mirror the movement, taking a matching step back before he even thinks about it. Brett freezes and raises a hand, his other hand limp by his side. ‘Whoa, I’m… Ah, Daredevil. I… I have to ask a favour.’ He bites at his lip again, more copper in the air. ‘The New York City Police has to ask a favour.’

Matt cocks his head and gives Brett a soft and considering smile, trying to push down his pounding heart. ‘For the New York City Police? Nothing could convince me to do them a favour,’ he says, listening to the way Brett’s heart sounds to pound, an angry drumbeat to Matt’s well trained ears. ‘I see,’ _ha_ , ‘what your officers do in the dark, Detective and I’ll do them no favours.’

‘Daredevil-’

‘You, on the other hand, need only ask. What do you need?’

There’s the wet pattering of Brett’s lips, as he opens and closes them. ‘What?’ he gasps out and Matt has to smirk.

‘What do you need?’ he repeats, shifting in place. With a deep breath, he takes a step forward, putting himself into Brett’s reach. Brett tenses but doesn’t step back.

Nor does he move forward, and Matt’s heart slows down a tiny amount. ‘You’ve been requested,’ he says, waving his wave in a small gesture towards the bakery, ‘by one of the gunmen. They want Daredevil.’

‘Say why?’

Brett shakes his head. ‘Only that they want you.’

‘He.’

Matt has to bite back his smirk at the silence that follows. ‘What?’ Brett finally asks, his voice croaking and his heart beating so fast Matt starts to wonder if this is what hummingbirds’ wings sound like.

‘There’s only one gunman.’

‘How… How the _fuck_ do you know that?’ Oh hey, Brett’s mad. What, does he think Daredevil’s in on this? Something molten runs through Matt’s veins, and he has to focus to push the devil clawing at his heart down.

He keeps it out of his voice. ‘I have my ways, Detective,’ he growls. Okay so maybe he _mostly_ keeps it out of his voice. ‘I hear a lot more than you think, see more than you can imagine.’

Brett steps in closer, so he’s all but touching Matt. ‘Keep that to yourself,’ he whispers, his voice quiet even to Matt’s ears, ‘couple people round here, give anything to have a reason to bring the big guns in on you. Hearing more than you should… might give ‘em the ammo.’ He steps back, and straightens. ‘Gunman wants you. We reckon we’ll start with a phone call to him, see if you can talk him into letting one of the hostages g-’

Matt steps back, already shaking his head. ‘I have this Detective. Get ready to receive your hostages.’

It’s as if Matt’s run a live wire through Brett’s heart, it starts to pound so fast that Matt could’ve sworn it skipped a beat. ‘Oh hell no. You do _not_ go in there - it’s not just your life at stake if you do!’

‘I’m well aware, Detective.’ The taste of Karen’s perfume; Foggy’s subtle but always there cologne; the smile in Karen’s voice; Foggy’s ever brightening laugh - all flash before Matt then vanish, with the copper taste of blood. He knows what is at stake. ‘But I refuse to confine myself to inaction when I can save them. We don’t have time to waste arguing.’ Matt can feel the deadline hammering away around him, beating under his skin and screaming in the back of his head. He doesn’t have _time_.

‘Daredevil-’

‘He’ll never see me coming. No one ever does.’ _I’ll fight you and win_ , sits in Matt’s voice, the history of their first face to face meeting hanging in the air between them. And that was when Brett had a hand on his gun - this time he’s got to draw it and Matt’s too close for him to manage it in time. ‘You didn’t, and you had half your force out looking.’

With a sigh, Brett steps back. ‘You get anyone killed, and I’ll arrest you myself.’

‘I get anyone killed, and I’ll let you,’ Matt admits, ignoring Brett’s muttered ‘ _What the fuck?_ ’. If he gets Foggy and Karen killed… well, he’s not certain there’ll be much of him left to arrest, but he’ll go quietly.

He takes a step back, moving into the shadows of the nearby building, before pausing, and adding, ‘And Detective?’ Brett makes a noise that might be a ‘go on’ noise, so Matt continues, ‘If you ever need me just get an officer you don't particularly like to go to a roof and shout my name for a while. I'll come.’

‘Why someone I don't like?’ Brett sounds suspicious. What, does he think Matt’s going to beat the officer up? Maybe if they were scum, if they deserved it. Though Matt does prefer to catch his crooks in the act when he beats them; it helps the lesson stick.

‘Well they're going to look a right idiot shouting at nothing. Might as well do it to someone you don't like. But by all means, do it to a friend. I’m sure you have enough to spare one.’ Before Brett can do more than gap, the sound of his jaw dropping practically audible, Matt’s gone.

He has a bakery to sneak into after all.

********

While the gunman was savvy enough to lock the back door, Matt’s yet to find a building he can’t find a way into. This time his senses lead him to a window that hasn’t quite been closed, the scent of wheat and sugar stronger from it than from all the other windows. It’s a tight squeeze but he’s never really had any issues with tight spaces - in fact, sometimes it’s reassuring to be able to feel the space with the rest of his body and know his senses are accurate.

He gags when he gets inside, the fear inside the building so strong he can taste it. It takes a moment of focus to push away the salty tears he can taste and the pang of sweat he can smell. It’s distracting and he needs to focus. Right now he’s in a bathroom, the disinfectant annoying if no where near as effective as it usually is at drowning out scents.

Thump, thump, thump, pause. Thump, thump, thump, pace. Almost rhythmic pacing, the gunpowder scent Matt can just pick up getting stronger when the footsteps get closer. So gunman is pacing. His heart is pounding, just like his hostages… in fact his heart might be going faster than most of the hostages’ hearts, with only two outpacing his. Matt’s certain he knows who those two hearts belong to.

They’re still alive at least.

‘You know, you’re not in too deep yet,’ Foggy says, his voice shaking. However Matt’s not sure anyone who doesn’t know him like Matt does would pick up on that; his voice is perfectly calm, like they were a court not a hostage situation. Each word is still a blow to Matt’s chest, God please find a way to shut Foggy up because now is not the time for him to… to… to be _Matt_. ‘Right now, with a good lawyer, you could walk away from this. You’ll do time, but not a lot. No one’s died ye-’

‘Shut up,’ the gunman snaps, and Matt hears the clink of Foggy’s teeth as he does. Then the grinding of his teeth, exactly as he does before speaking. Luckily Matt’s not the only one to notice because a moment later Foggy huffs like he’s been elbowed. Good work Karen.

‘Daredevil will come,’ the gunman says, drawing Matt’s attention back to him ‘and this will all be over. Everything will be alright once I have Daredevil. I can end this, it will end. No more… no more.’

And Foggy’s an _idiot_ . ‘Daredevil won’t come,’ he says and Matt wants to scream at the surety in his voice. ‘The cops won’t let him in, and where will you be? _Please_ ,’ and the pleading in Foggy’s voice has Matt slipping out of the bathroom and towards them, ‘please don’t do this.’

By the sounds of it, the gunman has everyone behind the counter and is pacing in front of the ovens. Clever really, it puts everyone out of view of the front windows - himself included - while still allowing him to see who’s coming. If Matt had come in through the front, they would have known he was coming.

Good thing he’s not.

‘I hear you want me,’ he says, throwing his voice as he slips into the room and ducks into a cold spot by an oven. This should be out of sight of the gunman, whose heart rate spikes. He points his gun at the front windows, over the hostages’ heads. Matt’s heart jumps into his throat, he can _feel_ it pounding there. ‘Not that way.’

The gun swings around, as Foggy and Karen gasp. ‘You fucker, you fucking idiot, you fucking asshole, get out, get out, oh fuck you,' Foggy starts to chant and Matt has to swallow a smile that might really be a sob. _What the fuck, Foggy? You hate me, why are you so upset I’m rescuing you?_ ‘You can hear me wherever you are, I know you can,’ he continues, still in that low whisper. ‘He wants you dead, get _out_.’

Matt does what he always does when Foggy’s being ridiculous about Matt’s well being or safety - he ignores him. ‘I’m here now, you can deal with me. No one else needs to be a part of this.’

The gunman’s heart is still pounding, his breaths coming out in short, harsh puffs. ‘Where are you? Is this a trick? I’ll… I’ll do it! Do something you’ll regret… it’s on you!’ He swings the gun around and Foggy sucks in a short breath.

Fuck.

Matt moves, as fast as he can, stumbling a bit over a loaf of bread on the floor. It must make enough noise for the gunman to hear because the gun swings back around before he’s even more than a step away from his original position. ‘Stop!’ the man calls and Matt freezes instantly, the memory of Frank’s gunshot - the pain, the overwhelming panic, the _deafness -_ racing through him and stealing his senses away for a long moment. ‘You… you came.’

‘I heard you wanted me,’ Matt grits out, pushing past his memories and ignoring Foggy’s continued muttering, now combining with Karen’s harsh - angry? -  breaths. ‘I tend to come when I’m called.’

He takes a step forward. ‘No!’ the gunman says and Matt hears his finger twitch on the trigger. Ice runs through his veins, freezing him on the spot, though he manages to raise his hands in the approximation of a gesture of surrender. ‘Stay there. You, you’ll do a thing and you won’t listen. Stay.’

There’s a note in the man’s voice, something familiar that tugs at Matt’s heart. ‘Okay,’ he says in his softest voice, and hears Foggy make a confused noise. ‘Okay, I’ll stay here. No moving.’ Matt waits a moment, until the gunman’s heart has slowed down a tiny amount. ‘Do you have a name?’

‘...Greg. I’m Greg ah… Greg.’ Greg shifts in place, his finger inching off the trigger. ‘Do I call you Daredevil?’

‘I’ll answer to it.’ Matt lowers his hands a touch, to a more nature, if still submissive position. ‘Greg, you wanted me. Why did you want me?’

‘You can fix it, you can make it better,’ Greg says, his heart starting to pound again. ‘You’re _Daredevil_ , and you fix it when the pigs are corrupt.’

Matt blinks, the surprise he’s feeling making him feel light and floatly. ‘I can fix it? What is it?’ Greg is silent so Matt risks a shift in position. Nothing happens. ‘Greg, I want to help. But I have to know what I need to fix before I can.’

‘You want to help?’ Greg’s voice is light, the suddenness of the change sending a surge of panic through Matt that makes his heart clench. This is the right path but he could screw this up so easily… ‘You really want to help?’

Nodding, Matt says, ‘I do Greg, I do. I want everyone to walk out of this alive and I will do anything I can to make that happen.’ He lowers his hands a touch. No reaction, beyond a hitch in Foggy’s breathing and a muttered curse about his mother from Karen (she might be a bitch, Karen, it’s not like Matt remembers her). ‘But I have to know what’s wrong to help.’

‘They want Craig.’ Matt blinks at the non-sequitur, something about the way Greg says it bringing to mind Melvin and his pleas for Betsy. It’s in the tone maybe? That note that is absolute desperation, the note people get when they’re being forced to do awful things to save someone they love and hating every moment of it, but still doing it. Because they have to.

Did Dad ever have that note in his voice, back when Matt was too young to recognise it?

‘Who wants Craig?’ he says, in as measured a tone as he can while he slides his foot a heart pounding inch left. When there’s no reaction, he moves the other foot. He’s now an inch closer to being between the hostages and Greg’s gun. ‘Greg, I want to help you, I want to make this right but you’re going to have to tell me more.’

Greg takes a deep breath and his fingers twitch on the gun. Matt tenses as something cold floods his veins and squeezes at his chest but Greg’s finger isn’t on the trigger. Nothing happens.

‘The police. They… they say he killed them. All of them.’ A sob escapes Greg, swallowed the instant he releases it. ‘He _didn’t_ . He’s my boy, my good boy. I was _with him_ when they say he was killing her, but but, they have video evidence! It’s fake, it has to be, because he was with _me_ and I’m not lying to protect him, I’m not.’

‘Oh God,’ Karen breaths, as Matt tries to process the wealth of information in the explosion of agony. Greg’s son is being framed, at least as far as Greg is concerned and right now with six lives in the balance that’s really all that matters. But… there’s something wrong about the way he’s been speaking of Craig.

‘Where is Craig now?’ Matt asks, as the pieces click. Whatever Craig did or didn’t do, it doesn’t matter because right now he’s on the run and his father is holding six people hostage to save him. Greg doesn’t answer, just shifting on the spot and Matt puts a touch of steel into his voice. ‘Greg, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. Where is Craig?’

‘Safe. I got him out, they wanted him. They’re going to kill him, I know they’re going to kill him, please you have to believe they’re going to kill him this is the only way, I have to keep him safe.’ Greg breaks off, panting even as Matt focuses on his heart beat. He’s anxious, sweating so much Matt only has to breath in to taste it. But he’s not lying; his heartbeat doesn’t change with his words so much as it does with Matt’s reactions to them. ‘I have to keep him safe.’

With careful movements, Matt nods. ‘I believe you,’ he says, in the same, soft and understanding tone he uses to speak to Melvin. ‘And I’m going to do everything in my power to help-’

‘You are?’ Delight colours Greg’s voice, and the gun lowers, pointing towards the ground.

‘-but first you have to do something for me.’ Greg tenses and the gun goes right back to its original position. Matt ploughs on, despite the way his heart is hammering away and he has to lock his knees to keep them from shaking. ‘You have to let these people go. They’re innocent, and it’s not going to help Craig.

Greg is already shaking his head. ‘I can’t,’ he whispers, in a toneless voice. It sounds almost defeated.

‘Why not?’ Matt tries to make his question as casual as possible, but he can’t quite keep the note of anger out of it. Considering how the devil in him is _screaming_ in outrage at being so close to getting Foggy and Karen to safety but still so far away, keeping it to only a note might be an achievement.

‘I need them, I need them. They’ll make sure things happen, people always listen when there’s guns and lives involved.’ Matt’s heart throbs at the logic, twisted as it is, in Greg’s words. People do pay more attention when there’s guns and lives at stake; the media is all over it. After all, if it bleeds, it leads. ‘I can’t let them take Craig, I can’t. They have to listen, I have to make them listen. You can make them listen.’

Bowing his head under the weight of Greg’s emotions, coupling with the rapid breathing of the hostages, Matt sighs. ‘And I will, you have my word… if you let these people go.’

‘NO!’ Greg throws his gun up and Matt takes his chance, moving in the space of a moment to be between Greg and the hostages. To be between his (ex-)friends and the gun.

‘Greg, I want to help you. I want so badly to help you,’ Matt says in a rapid voice, that might’ve sounded calm if he’d managed to slow it down. ‘Please let me help you. But I can’t help you at the expense of innocent lives, I can’t. Please don’t make me do this.’ Greg’s harsh breathing echoes in Matt’s ears, the sound of his fingernail tapping the edge of the trigger a sharp bell that overpowers all other sounds. New angle Matt.

Fast.

‘Okay,’ Matt says, putting his hands up again. ‘Not all of them. But one person Greg, you have to give me one person. Show the police you’re reasonable, get them working on finding the-’

‘No!’ Greg screams and Matt flinches as his finger twitches on the trigger. ‘You can’t trust the police, you can’t!’

‘I’m not leaving here,’ Matt says, unable to keep the devil’s growl out of his voice. ‘Not while you have hostages.’ He lowers his arms, so they’re in a more protective than surrendering position. ‘If you want to keep these people here, you’re going to have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.’ Foggy makes a noise that might be outraged. Thanks Foggy. ‘One person, one hostage goes out. They talk to Brett Mahoney-’’

His hands relax as Greg straightens a bit, sliding off the trigger. ‘I know that name.’

‘He’s a… well, he’s a good cop,’ Matt says. ‘An _honest_ one. He helped bring down Fisk; worked against his own to do it. If… he’ll find the evidence we need to prove Craig’s innocence.’

The pause stretches out, from a moment into a eon. Silence reigns, with only the whimpering pants of the hostages to challenge it. Matt’s heart is beating so fast he’s sure it must be audible to everyone else, but their hearts pound in time, so maybe they can’t hear his over theirs. Come on Greg, come on. Please take this, please, please please please-

‘One person?’ Greg says, an eternity later. ‘Just one person?’

Matt nods, in jerky movements that he has to stop, least Greg pick up on the anxiety bubbling in his stomach. ‘One person. It’ll show the police you’re willing to negotiate, that you’re not irrational.’ Greg makes a noise at that, a noise that sounds negative to Matt’s ears so he adds, ‘And it’ll let you get a message to an honest cop, without the chance someone else will overhear it.’

The appeal to Greg’s paranoia works. ‘Yes, yes. Okay. One person. One person. I’ll still have five, they’ll listen for five as well as six.’ Matt breaths a sigh, the relief that floods him making him slightly light headed. ‘Who… who should go?’

‘If you send me out,’ Karen says in a mutter so soft Matt’s sure _she_ can’t even hear it, ‘I will make your life hell. I am not going while you’re here, you cannot make me go. Don’t be a sexist asshole, I am not yours to rescue, don’t you dare use this to rescue me.’ Foggy’s saying something similar, though he’s just using variations of the words ‘fuck’, ‘hypocritic’, and ‘stupidly noble asshole’ to do it.

Okay fine, Matt gets the point. As much as it breaks his heart, a physical ache that would drive him to his knees if he was any less stubborn, he knows he can’t send either of his (ex-) friends out. Not without causing a scene that he - they - have to avoid. But that’s okay… he’s going to get them out later.

He will get them out.

‘Who?’ Greg asks again, something like desperation in his voice. Oh fuck. How much control does Matt have here?

The hostage at the end shifts, her heart a touch faster than everyone else’s. The taste of chocolate hovers around her, mixing with the smell of ink on her hands. And she’s in Ma Jo’s. A memory of Matt’s sings, bringing the time a young girl - college aged at the absolute oldest - helped him pick out a cookie for Foggy, back when they were speaking. Ma Jo’s young employee, eager and always chattering about whatever book she just read to anyone who’ll listen.

Ma Jo - no one who’s lived in Hell’s Kitchen for more than a year calls her anything else - is beside her employee and also an option but Matt’s known her his entire life. She’s too stubborn to go first, in that polite but firm way. And Matt doesn’t know the other two hostages, both businessmen by the rich smell of their suits’ fabric, but he knows what Brett’s been told. A man coming out when the gunman has been identified as male is suspicious. A girl, much less so.

‘The girl,’ Matt says, tilting his head towards her. ‘Send the girl.’ Greg hums, tilting his head and Matt takes a gamble, ‘She’s younger than Craig is, isn’t she? Do you want a child’s blood on your hands? Is that going to help Craig?’

The girl goes to speak but the always astute Ma Jo beats her to it, elbowing her in a sharp and fast motion that knocks the girl’s breath out of her in a huff. At the same time Greg exhales, a long breath through his teeth. ‘Just her,’ he says, and it takes Matt a moment to realise that’s not a question.

It’s a statement. A _yes_ . Nodding, Matt gestures at the girl, keeping his face pointed towards Greg so he’ll think Matt’s looking at him. When the girl doesn’t move, Matt hiss, ‘ _Go_ ,’ at her.

She rises and moves in short, careful steps to Matt’s side. Grabbing at his arm with enough strength to make Matt wince internally, she asks ‘Really?’

‘Go,’ Greg says, pointing at the door with his gun. ‘Tell them I want Craig’s name cleared and then I’ll let the others go too.’ His voice is toneless, but Matt can hear how his heart is hammering away in his chest.

‘Talk to Brett Mahoney,’ Matt says to the girl, turning his head away from Greg and speaking in a whisper. ‘And only him. Say Foggy Nelson’s phone is the best line of communication and I’ll make sure it’s answered.’ Then he raises his voice, turning back to face Greg. ‘We’re going to need a surname Greg, if you don’t want time to be wasted identifying you.’

Greg seems to mull this over for a moment, Matt’s heart stopping and starting in uneven fits during the pause. ‘Jackson,’ he says finally. ‘Craig Jackson.’

Craig Jackson, the supposed serial killer who’s been targeting the LGBT community of New York for years; on the run as of a week ago. Matt had caught bits and pieces of the case from various T.V’s and radios during his patrols but hadn’t really focused on it. Jackson’s hunting ground wasn’t in Hell’s Kitchen after all, for all he lived there. And it’s not like Matt could pick Jackson out of a crowd, not from a picture on a screen.

Well fuck.

‘Okay,’ Matt says ignoring how all but one of the businessmen took a sharp breath at the name. Now is not the time to dwell on that. ‘Okay,’ he says again for lack of another thing to say.

Greg gestures at the door with his gun. ‘Go on then,’ he tells the hostage he’s releasing. ‘Go!’ She takes a half step towards the door, then another and another. Matt shuffles a bit, keeping himself between the remaining hostages and Greg, while maybe putting himself a bit between the fleeing girl and the gun.

Her steps get quicker the second she leaves the bakery and Matt hears her start to sob. Police are crying at her to put her hands up, Brett’s voice one of the loudest in the chorus of voices. Matt draws his focus back the moment he hears Brett call out that she’s secure.

One down, five to go.

‘Now what?’ Greg asks, and a part of Matt aches at the confusion and pain in his voice. What did he think getting Daredevil involved was doing to do? Did he think Daredevil was just, going to walk in and magically be able to prove his son’s innocence? Surely Matt’s reputation as Daredevil hasn’t gotten to that sort of stage yet? He’s just… he’s just the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. People have to realise that, have to see he’s nothing more than the bloody justice Hell’s Kitchen needs sometimes, when the law fails. Nothing more or less than a man with a devil, deep in sin in an attempt to maybe make his city a better place.

...Right?

‘Call the number you called to get me here,’ Matt says, ‘and talk to the officer there-’ He takes a step forward.

It’s a step too far. Greg’s gun snaps up, his finger twitching on the trigger. Matt freezes, panting as again, the sound of Frank’s gun again echoing in his ears. Keep it together Matt.

‘No, this is wrong, no.’

‘Hey!’ _Foggy_ says and Matt wants to scream. ‘What the hell are you _doing?_ ’

Shut up Foggy, shut up, shut up shut up _shut up_.

‘Are you insane or just plain stupid?’

The gun is swung around, moving to point at Foggy. Without thinking, Matt follows it, a single step putting himself between the gun and his frie… former friend. ‘No,’ he growls, ‘you do not harm them.’

‘And what are you going to do, if you kill Daredevil?’ Karen adds, drawing Greg’s attention if the shift of his head is anything to judge by. ‘This whole thing is about getting Daredevil’s help. Well, you have it now. And you’re going to shoot him?’

‘The police are the ones framing Craig, they’re the ones doing this!’ Greg cries but he moves his finger off the trigger. Matt’s world settles back under his feet, the sense of falling he’s had for the last few moments disappearing as his heart stops pounding. He really doesn’t want to attack this man... something about him just screams ‘victim’, just like Melvin.

Raising his hands slowly, Matt gestures at the gun. ‘Put it down, let them go. Brett’s an honest cop, he’ll look into this. He’ll find out everything there is to find out.’ Find out if he is innocent or not, Matt cannot say. Even he’s not stupid enough to suggest that this might all be for nothing, that Craig might be as guilty as the police say he is. Just because his father isn’t lying about one albi, for one murder, doesn’t mean the others aren’t possible.

But it is reasonable doubt. Matt’s done more with far less.

‘They won’t listen if I let them go,’ Greg says - no _whines_ , a God to honest whine. ‘He’s innocent, I know he is. I just need you, you can make them see.’ Again, his finger twitches on the trigger and Matt tenses.

‘Damn it Matt, get out of his way,’ Karen mutters and Matt shakes his head, a tiny motion. ‘Oh of course you’re not moving, you… you…’ She trails off, gritting her teeth. ‘Fine.’ The way she says the word sends panic racing through Matt, a flood of coldness that has every part of his body _screaming._

‘I can make them see,’ she says in much louder voice, one that everyone can hear. ‘I’m a reporter Greg, for the New York Bulletin.’ Matt tries to hide the effect the fresh wave of panic has on him, as Greg’s interest in Karen’s words registers in his senses. ‘My job is to investigate things like this, to call the police out when they’re unjust.’

‘And I’m a lawyer,’ Foggy adds and Matt wants to scream. ‘I can’t take Craig’s case, not after this, but I can make sure he’s represented. Make sure he gets a fair trial, that explores everything.’ Foggy shifts in place, his knees tensing as if he’s about to rise. Matt jerks his head, a small movement that Foggy must catch because his knees relax. Good. ‘And… and Greg, have you thought this out?’

It’s Greg’s turn to shift in place, taking a half step closer. He’s almost in Matt’s reach, almost close enough Matt could disarm him before he even had time to realise Matt had moved. Just a bit more…

Oh God, he’s going to have to get Foggy and Karen to keep Greg talking. It’s the only way he might forget Matt’s here, long enough for this to work. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Okay.

Matt, in careful and slow movements, gets one hand behind his back. The one furthest from Greg and closer to Foggy. A subtle gesture, his hand waving in a ‘go on’ circle. The same signal he used on Foggy in law school when Foggy was giving a speech and needed to elaborate more. Foggy’s signal for him had been taps on a table, used far more often than Matt’s signal to Foggy - Foggy’s always been a talker.

Right now, it might be what saves their lives. If Foggy noti-

A small gasp, a jump in his heartbeat. He’s got it. ‘Really, have you thought this out?’ he asks again. ‘You’re going to prison, you know that right? There’s no way you walk away from this a free man.’

‘A small price to pay,’ Greg says, desperation in his voice. ‘Craig’s _innocent_ , and if I have to give up my life to prove it… then so be it.’

‘Right, but… you’re still going to prison. Craig’s going to have to live with the fact you’re there because of him.’ Matt shifts forward an inch. Just a few more inches…

Greg shakes his head, as if to clear it. ‘He’ll be free.’

‘Yes but you _won’t be_ ,’ Foggy says, the bite in his voice familiar to Matt from the many cross examinations he’s listened to Foggy do. ‘But you can choose how long you’re in prison.’

Greg’s breathing shortens and there’s a gasp, so quiet Matt’s sure he’s the only one that heard it. ‘I can?’

‘If you show remorse, if you surrender and no one is harmed then the judge will be lenient on you. You’ll get the minimum sentence, you could be out on parole in a few years.’ Foggy’s exaggerating, of course, or embellishing the truth but it’s _working_. Greg’s relaxing, leaning forward. One more inch…

‘Please,’ Karen adds, her voice softer and sweeter than Matt’s ever heard it. ‘I know what it feels like when all the world’s against you. But it’s _not_ , I promise. Daredevil’s not the only one fighting for justice in this city.’ Greg goes to look at Matt in a heart stopping moment, but Karen keeps going and draws his attention back to her.

‘You wanted people to see, to listen. Well they have, they will. You did what you wanted, now it’s time to stop this.’

‘How?’ Greg asks, in a voice that’s mostly breath and very little sound. ‘How?’

Matt moves then, as fast as a snake. Greg’s hand is in his, and Matt’s fingers digging into a pressure point. The gun drops, falling to the ground with a deafening clank - but without discharging. ‘By letting the gun go,’ Matt says, in his softest voice. ‘And ending this now.’

It’s like Matt just cut the strings holding him up. Greg collapses into Matt’s arms, as weak as a kitten. Unprepared for the weight, Matt sinks to the floor as Foggy’s phone starts to ring. Brett’s ringtone. ‘Answer it,’ Matt growls, trying to shift Greg into a position where he’s not on top of Matt. While he’s nowhere near as strong as Matt, Greg does have a head of height and forty pounds on him, which is making this very awkward.

‘Ah, hello?’ Foggy says, relief making his voice light. ‘Brett, I ah, think you can send in the cavalry now. I mean, they’re going to be late but send them in anyway.’ There’s a pause and Matt considers listening into Brett’s side of the conversation but something stops him. Foggy might be mad if he does.

‘Yeah, Daredevil got him to surrender. I’m not kidding, he’s crying on the floor right now and I think I saw the gun go under the oven. Uhuh. Right. Okay.’ With a click, he hangs up. ‘Police are coming in.’

Matt shuffles in place, torn between his desire to escape any confrontation with the police and the burning need to see that Foggy and Karen are alright. Karen, bless her, seems to realise. ‘Ah, Daredevil? Unless you want to meet with police…’

‘I’ll leave this in your capable hands,’ Matt says and wriggles his body out from under Greg. Boneless, Greg slips to the floor still silently crying.

Nodding one last time, Matt makes his escape.

********

The scent of gunpowder, mixed with sugar and wheat. The click of a trigger, the bang of a gun and pain in his forehead - he’s going to die, oh God please no, let me live. A pounding weight in his chest, heavy but fast at the same time. Cold ice in his veins because it’s not just his life at stak-

A pounding at his door draws Matt from his thoughts - his memories - and he turns his head towards it. It takes him a moment to recognise Foggy’s distinctive knock, to smell Karen’s favourite perfume that she only wears when she thinks there’s going to be a fight. Something about it preparing her for war or something. Blinking himself out of what would be staring at nothing if he could stare at nothing, Matt considers moving. But no, that seems to require energy he doesn’t have, for effort he’s not sure he can manage.

‘Matt! We know you’re in there!’ Foggy cries, each word punctuated with another thump on Matt’s door. ‘Come on Matt, let us in.’

‘Don’t think we won’t break this door down if we have to,’ Karen adds.

Hearing the truth in their hearts and the resolve in their voices, Matt sighs. Best to get this over with then. ‘It’s open,’ he says, repeating himself a moment later when the banging doesn’t stop.

The door creaks open and despite the confidence in their voices, Foggy and Karen’s footsteps are slow and careful. Almost sneaking, like they think if they just inch into Matt’s apartment, it’ll be easier than if they storm in. Or walk in normally. It’s not like Matt’s going to pull some ninja move and throw them out of his home. Not right now, when his limbs feel like they weigh a thousand pounds and his thoughts are foggy and filled with the copper scent of blood and the icy panic of losing his friends.

Former friends.

‘Matt?’ Foggy asks, and there’s something like caution in his voice. Matt just hums in acknowledgement and considers wriggling into a more comfortable position. But that means moving and there’s just no motivation left in Matt for that. ‘Buddy, you okay?’

‘Buddy?’ Matt can’t help but question, surprise giving his voice a tone. Huh. He didn’t realise he had that in him.

Karen slips onto the seat beside him, her movements slow and gentle. Matt turns towards her a touch, but otherwise doesn’t bother to acknowledge her. ‘Matt?’ she asks in a soft tone. ‘Are you alright?’

‘I should be asking you that,’ Matt says, finding some more life to project into his voice. Where is it coming from? ‘You nearly _died_.’

‘Last time I checked, you spent the most time with a _gun_ pointed at you,’ Foggy snaps, then takes a deep breath. ‘Sorry,’ he says in a voice that’s maybe two degrees closer to calm than it was before. So not very calm. Maybe in the realm of calm.

Okay, Matt’s focusing on the irrelevant here. Come on Matt, keep it together. ‘And last I checked, you were there because of _me_ .’ Somehow, his legs have the strength to stand, something he only discovers when Karen places a gentle palm on his shoulder. He’s surging upwards before much more than the touch registers, wanting the touch desperately - a desire that _aches_  - but knowing he doesn’t deserve it. Especially not from Karen, not after what he did.

To her, to Foggy, to everyone in that bakery. ‘You nearly died because of me,’ Matt says. Foggy snorts and all of the anger in Matt, his devil, snaps to focus on him. ‘Foggy-’ he starts to growl.

‘Seriously Murdock? You’re going to be that much of a martyr?’

‘Are you going to seriously argue that you would have been a hostage if I wasn’t Daredevil?’ Foggy goes to speak but Matt’s not done, the devil burning in his veins. ‘You, of all people, are going to defend Daredevil and argue you weren’t hurt because of _my_ choices.’

Karen stands, putting herself between Matt and Foggy with a growl. ‘I am _not_ your peacekeeper!’ she says, her hands up as if to push them apart despite the fact Foggy’s still hovering by the end of the hallway and Matt’s closer to his bedroom than his couch. It kinda undermines her words. ‘But the both of you have to _back off_ right now.’

With a huff of air that might be a growl, Foggy gives a jerk of a nod and moves to lean against Matt’s bench. Tension fills the air as Matt doesn’t react, Karen’s stare boring into him. Finally he nods too and the air lightens, though he choses to stay where he is. He’s not sure he can handle being close to his friends… former friends right now.

‘Why are you here?’ It takes Matt a moment to realise he’s said that aloud, only noticing when both heartbeats jump.

‘Because we were worried,’ Karen says, still hovering between the couch - between Foggy - and Matt.

What? Though the fog in his mind, Matt tries to wrap his head around that. ‘Why?’

‘Because you’re our _friend?_ ’ Foggy says, his voice fast and sharp. ‘As much as you hate to act like it-’

‘No I’m not,’ Matt gets out, and both of them make noises like he shot them. ‘You… you agreed. I’m not good for you, you got out.’

‘Out of business, yes,’ Foggy says, ‘out of friendship no. You’re a fuck up Matt, but I tied myself to you years ago. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.’

The words Foggy’s saying keep turning over and over in Matt’s mind, the meaning there but beyond comprehension. What the hell? How? What? Why? How?

While he struggles with the words, Matt scrambles for another topic. ‘Any word on Greg?’

Karen shifts her head to look at Foggy, the specific look lost to Matt as all such gestures are. ‘Being charged with seven accounts of kidnapping but Marci’s agreed to represent him,’ she says as Foggy moves to sit on the couch, collapsing into it with a sigh. ‘And Craig turned himself in an hour ago, to help the DA with their investigations. Seems he might have been framed by one of the officers investigating the case who ignored the fact he fits the victims’ profile.’ She huffs, her ‘I’m outraged at injustice right now’ noise. ‘The officer might even be the killer; he’s certainly a suspect.’

Matt finds a small smile creeping onto his face, despite something Karen said reading as wrong. . Wait, how? ‘And how much of that did Brett mean to tell you?’

‘Most of it,’ Karen says with a smile in her voice. ‘I might have to retain a lawyer to help me cover myself for the rest.’

Foggy laughs as Matt finally pulls out the wrong detail. ‘Wait, seven accounts? There were only six hostages?’

‘Well, they’re not going to be able to make your kidnapping stick,’ Foggy says with a shrug of his shoulders, ‘Not with the whole secret identity keeping you from testifying and such. But I think it’s mostly for show; Marci seems confident she can talk them down to a good deal - and boy am I going to owe her big for all this.’

‘But… I wasn’t kidnapped?’ Matt’s sure there’s some meaning for these words to Foggy and Karen but it’s not computing for him. They’re just not making sense. ‘I walked into that bakery, I wasn’t a hostage.’

There’s a long silence, full of gazes - Matt assumes from the way their heads are moving - before Foggy speaks. ‘Matt, the second he pointed a gun at you, you were a hostage. A stupid one, sure, but a hostage…’

‘I walked into it,’ Matt says, putting as much insistence as he can into his voice. ‘I chose it, because it’s my faul-’

‘Did you point that gun at Foggy?’ Karen asks, cutting into Matt’s words. ‘Did you?’ she asks again when he doesn’t reply. He shakes his head. ‘Did you point it at me?’ Another shake of his head. ‘At yourself?’

‘No.’

‘Then it’s not your fault. Isn’t that the whole point of Daredevil? Bringing the people who deserve it to justice - and _only_ them? Can you just… believe in that, if nothing else?’

Matt looks away, even though it’s a useless gesture, desperate to gain the distance and space. Why are they here? ‘Karen…’ he starts to say but trails off, unsure of where to go. What to say. What to _do_.

‘Matt, let us help’ she says in a begging voice, holding out her hand to him. ‘Matt, please,’ she says when he doesn’t move.

‘Please.’

What she’s asking isn’t clear. Please believe her? Please stop this? Please be better? Please let them help and risk their lives too?

Please go to her?

He tries but he can’t resist the tone in her voice. With short steps, he moves to her side and takes her hand. In a flash of a movement, almost too fast for him to comprehend, she tugs him down and onto the couch beside Foggy. Taking the other side, Karen makes him feel like a filling in a sandwich.

It’s almost nice. It’s certainly the closest he’s been to anyone since Elektra d…. Since Elektra.

There’s more to say, more to fight about and resolve. But for now, Matt can feel the heart beats he usually just listens to and taste the air they’re breathing. Small reminders they’re alive, despite his best efforts.

And for now, that might be enough.


End file.
